


Enigma of Wrought-Iron Gold

by KnightwingYJ



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 1800s AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Explicit Language, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22575952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightwingYJ/pseuds/KnightwingYJ
Summary: The man sitting silently across from him, body tense and stiff as a board, was nothing like all the other alphas he's encountered before. He wasn't domineering or trying to force him into submission as any other alpha would be at this point. He was quiet and almost awkward in his intensity. Yet, he managed to give Dick a smile that seemed almost genuine."My name is Bruce."The man was a mystery. One that looked like it may be worth solving.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 22
Kudos: 160





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes. It is another alpha/beta/omega fic featuring Dick/Bruce. This is just one of the many I hope to write in the upcoming future. So get used to it. Tags will be updated with each chapter that is added. Warnings will also be posted at the beginning of each chapter.  
> I have found a wonderful beta in parksc1. I thank her greatly for the help that she has given me so far. Chapter one has been edited by her and chapter two should arrive soon.   
> Warnings: Language

Gold makes the world go round. That’s what Master Domuz says at least. Gold opened doors with no keys. Gold made ugly things beautiful. Master was full of little idioms like that. Dick thought he was just full of it. Gold didn’t make ugly things beautiful. Seventy-five percent of his master’s wardrobe was painted or embroidered with gold and he still looked like a pig. A big, stinky, disgusting pig, potbelly and all.

Dick disagreed with his master on most things, though he quickly learned to keep those disagreements to himself. Gold didn’t open locked doors. Gold didn’t make the world go round. Iron did. Iron was in everything, cookware, industrial equipment, keys, and locks. Iron was even placed in the foundation of buildings. But mostly, iron was the foundation of Dick’s entire world. It was in the wheels and axels of the wagons that jostled him across back alleys and forgotten country roads. It was in the bars to the cage that he slept in most nights, insufficient at blocking the nights’ cold breezes. It was in the shackles that bound him, chaining him to this wretched existence and to Domuz. No, it wasn’t gold that turned the world. It was iron.

It was that offending metal that clinked and rattled against his bones, rubbing his skin raw and sending sparks of pain shooting down his fingertips. The collar was just as bad, if not worse, sitting heavily on this collar bones and wearing little sores on the skin underneath. The chain connecting them thumped painfully against his chest, no doubt leaving behind yet another dark bruise. Another chain stretched out between him and the auction house attendant guiding him down the large aisle between rows and rows of plush crimson chairs. A single white shawl draped over his head shielded him from the prying eyes of the lords and ladies bidding on items. Bidding on him.

Their whisperings were barely louder than the quiet slap of his bare feet on the hardwood floors. He could feel them all around him. Alphas, betas, even a few omegas. He knew what they were whispering about. He knew he was the crown jewel of tonight’s auction. What everyone had come to see. To buy, if they were lucky.

A tug on the chain pulled him gently up the three steps to the auction’s stage where hands turned him toward the audience. His omega curled tightly inside him, retreating from the suffocating presence of so many alphas pressing in on him. The iron was clinking again, and he clasped his hands together to quiet it. A booming voice made him jump. “Let’s start the bidding at five hundred dollars.” 

A roar broke out as the crowd fought for the right to own him and his ears rang from the sound. Closing his eyes, Dick took a deep, subtle breath through his nose and released it slowly. The roar faded into the melodious song of early spring birds. Gone was the musky stench of alphas and burning incense. He could almost imagine himself enveloped in the sweet smell of wild lilac and honeysuckle dancing on the warm breeze. New grass tickled his feet as his raven hair brushed the back of his neck and the tips of his ears. A mid-morning sun warmed his skin and glistened off the smooth surface of a koi pond. Laughter bubbled in his throat as he chased a mischievous fox through the clover fields. In the distance, he could hear the soft voice of his mother calling his name, “ _Dick…Dick…_ ”

“Five thousand dollars.” A shocked gasp rose from the crowd as Dick was snapped from his daydream. The voice resonated through the air and echoed in his ears. He almost dared to raise his head to search out the owner of such a commanding voice. He kept his head down though, as propriety demanded. The sharp click of dress shoes crackled through the now silent hall, steadily getting louder with each step. Dick fought the instinctual urge to shrink away from the intimidating presence of the approaching high alpha. He could hear the auctioneer beside him swiftly grilling the crowd, looking for another who might dare to bid a higher price. No one spoke.

“Sold!” was shouted in his ear and Dick flinched, rattling the iron weighing him down. Black dress shoes stopped before him and he quietly took them in. The shoes were shined to perfection with just the tiniest amount of wear on the sides. They were the typical shoes of high society and Dick had stared at enough of them to recognize authentic leather from cheap knockoffs. These were the genuine article.

Dick’s eyes roamed up. Dark trousers were pressed and creased in all the right places. A dinner jacket was layered over a dark vest and tailored in such a way that it accented a thin but sturdy waist. A spotless white dress shirt supported a deep red necktie, pinned in place with a black onyx tie pin encased in a ring of silver. Gloved hands held an elegant cane crafted with dark wood and a rounded, polished silver handle. A midnight cloak with a silver and ruby cloak clasp accentuated broad shoulders.

His gaze eventually landed on a chiseled jaw with smooth, creamy skin. The alpha’s thin lips combined with full, dark eyebrows gave him a naturally hard expression. Ebony hair, smoothed back, exposed eyes that drew Dick’s right in. They were dark, much like the rest of the man and grabbed his attention in a way Dick hadn’t expected. There was something there, swirling in their depths, that Dick couldn’t quite fathom.

“Thank you, my lord, for your purchase.” The auctioneer’s voice startled him again and Dick quickly looked down before anyone noticed his serious breach in protocol. Even with his gaze averted, he could still feel those intense eyes boring holes into him, and it was a struggle to resist the urge to glance up again. “If you would follow me, my lord, you’ll be able to inspect the merchandise in one of our back rooms in a moment.”

The iron tugged and Dick obediently followed. The murmurs were back, but they no longer focused on him. The mysterious lord had caught more than his attention and the rumor mill was bound to be buzzing about this for weeks to come. The noise cut off sharply as the stage doors closed behind him. The darkness of the side corridor was a drastic change from the well-lit hall, forcing Dick to blink away black spots. The attendant hurried him down the hallway, nearly causing him to stumble a few times as he attempted to keep up.

Another set of hands dragged him into an inconspicuous room where the shawl was torn from his head. Rough hands tilted his head back and dug a comb through his ruffled hair. There were three loud clicks and he quietly sighed in relief as the shackles and collar clattered to the floor. The sigh morphed into a whimper when the loincloth was torn way, and a strange smelling oil was rubbed into every inch of his skin.

What they covered him with couldn’t really be classified as a skirt. It consisted of two pieces of teal cloth about a yard each sewn to a thinner, gold piece of cloth that they tied around his waist. The teal panels covered his front and back but left his legs, thighs, and hips exposed. The golden ends of the teal panels brushed the tops of his feet and the fabric whispered as he moved. They snapped a thin gold collar around his neck that seemed to weigh more than the iron. Black kohl accented his eyes and oil was smoothed over his lips.

“He’s ready.” The attendant declared, attaching a chain to the collar before shoving Dick through the door. The sound of the “skirt” mingled with the tinkling of the chain and his shallow breathing as he trudged down the endless hallway. The heart drumming in his chest was deafening as it threatened to burst out with a petrified scream. Only the painful lump lodged in his throat kept it from escaping. 

A dark, mahogany door loomed before him and Dick could sense the alpha just beyond it, waiting for him. The vise in his chest tightened as he attempted to draw in deep, calming breaths. His heart skipped when the attendant knocked. Dick pulled his omega in even tighter, so much so that it nearly vanished into his soul. The doors swung open. Master Domuz was there, standing next to the mysterious lord. Dick’s lead was dropped, and he just stood there, prey backed into a corner. 

“As you can see, my Lord,” Domuz smirked, approaching him with his arms outstretched as if he planned to embrace him. Dick was dead sure he would bolt if the man tried. “He’s quite an exotic beauty; caramel skin, obsidian hair, delicate and pure.” He struggled not to flinch when his master’s stubby fingers trailed over the ends of his hair. He was pretty sure he failed, but the merchant took no notice.

A faint growl had his eyes snapping toward the lord, whose hand twitched at his side. It seems Domuz’s little touch was not appreciated. The merchant caught on and hastily stepped away, allowing Dick to finally take a full breath. Master cleared his throat and placed his pudgy arms behind his back as much as he could. “I would have to say though that his best feature is his eyes. Sapphires, they are. Bluer than any I have ever seen. Imagine your heirs possessing eyes such as these.”

Heirs. Dick’s stomach dropped. He was going to be expected to breed with the lord. To lie with him and… he suddenly felt quite nauseous. A wave of displeasure washed over him, and he quivered, shrinking further and further inward. His eyes locked onto the rug and began tracing its golden pattern. “Clothes,” the word was so simple and yet that deep voice gave it so much power that Dick couldn’t stop himself from looking.

Domuz looked puzzled at the word as if he had never heard it before. “Clothes, my lord?” 

The alpha turned his intense gaze to the master, who seemed to be resisting the instinctual need to bare his neck. “His clothes, Domuz. Where are they?”

“He’s…wearing them, my lord.”

The indignation strengthened and the dip in the lord’s brow deepened. The corners of his mouth bowed. “Two yards of cloth on a string does not constitute clothing.”

Domuz started stuttering. “I-I’m sorry, my lord, b-but I do not have clothes that would fit him.”

The alpha leveled a disbelieving look at the merchant. “Very well.” Unclipping the silver chain to his cloak, he pulled it from his shoulders and stepped forward, draping it around Dick’s. Hesitant, Dick grasped the edges and pulled them closed. The material was much lighter than he first thought and smooth to the touch. It felt nice across his bare back.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Those dark eyes softened and the alpha straightened. “I will return tomorrow with the payment. Until then, I believe our business here is concluded.”

Domuz bid him a deep bow…well, as deep of a bow as someone of his size could muster. “Of course, a pleasure doing business with you, Lord Wayne

* * *

“Oh, Lord Wayne, what a pleasure to see you out this evening.” Plastering on a perfect plastic smile, Bruce turned to see Margret Jessop smiling sweetly up at him. Her gray-streaked hair was twisted up in a simple knot on top of her head. Her caked-on makeup did nothing to cover the wrinkles forming along her mouth or by her eyes. The red of her dress was a bit bold for a lady of her age and the cut even more so.

“Good evening, Lady Jessop.” He said kindly, not forgetting the etiquette Alfred had drilled into him as a child.

“Oh, please Bruce, how many times have I told you to call me Maggie?”

“Just once more, my lady, and many times after.” He replied cringing silently at her overly girlish giggle.

“Oh, my poor dear. You really are putting on a brave face, aren’t you? Especially after what happened with Lady Beaumont.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Bruce allowed his smile to diminish a bit, letting the high society vulture believe it was from the pain of the mentioned incident instead of loss of patience at it being mentioned once again. “Thank you, Lady Jessop, for your concern, but I assure you that I am fine.”

“A brave face indeed! It was just such a traitorous thing to do and for it to come from someone so well thought of in our society. To pretend to be an alpha.” Jessop placed a gloved hand against her chest as if the mere thought of such a deed caused her great pain. “I’d imagine you are quite glad to have discovered her lies before entering into a mating bond with her.”

“Of course.”

Her smile turned into something a little less appropriate and she moved a little closer to him. “You are so strong to keep going after such a deed. Had it been me, I would be devastated at the mere thought of the social repercussions.” Bruce was sure there was supposed to be a compliment in there somewhere.

“Thank you, Lady Jessop. You are too kind.”

“Will you get back into the game, Lord Wayne? Living in that big old house all by yourself, it must get lonely sometimes.” Her hand found its way onto his arm and he had to physically restrain himself from tearing away. She may have only been a beta, but Margret Jessop was effectively irritating his Alpha. He was having a difficult time keeping it from merging and forcing her to back off.

“It may seem that way, my lady, but I am quite happy where I am now. Thank you for your consideration.”

She huffed pleasantly before removing her hand and taking a step back. “Quite brave, indeed. If you’ll excuse me, my Lord, my mate calls for me. It was a pleasure speaking with you.”

“Of course, my lady,” he bowed low and watched her walk away, dropping his smile and letting out a strained huff. If he had to hear one more person give their condolences about Lady Beaumont, he was going to lose his mind. It wasn’t as big a deal as everyone made it out to be. In fact, it hurt Andrea more than it did him. Her family had practically disowned her when they discovered what she had been doing. They had shipped her off to live with distant relatives in order to escape the brunt of the shame. Bruce only felt pity for her. She wasn’t the first to try and escape the limitations of her caste and she certainly wouldn’t be the last. He only wished he could have helped her.

The lines between castes were distinct. Even now, without scent or instinct, one could see the barriers erected between the guests. Alpha’s were always in the front, big and boastful, ready for a challenge. They oozed confidence that was born of blood and conflict. Betas were always to the right of their alpha, a shield guarding their flank. For an unmated alpha, the beta was their balm, keeping them calm in the presence of other alphas. The only beta who broke this mold was James Gordon. Born into his caste as many others, he fought and clawed his way to a position that had previously only been held by alphas. As the head of Gotham’s law enforcement, his beta allowed him to keep a level head while his strength, one that rivaled many of the alpha’s around him, kept the department from falling into utter chaos. He was a kind, yet no-nonsense type of individual who had long ago earned Bruce’s respect. Brown eyes met blue across the room and Bruce sent Gordon a pleasant nod, for which he got a strained smile. Seems his friend was about as excited to be here as he was.

The omega’s position was the lowest of society’s rung while still maintaining a desired position in every pack. They were necessary for breeding, but many were treated as nothing more than property, objects to be used and abused. Alphas were known to climb the social ladder when an omega hung on their arm, and so, everyone scrambled to have one. Many forgot that they were people too.

Bruce’s lip curled in disgust as he watched Aubrey James, head of Gotham’s council, get handsy with the female omega on his arm. She was dressed in the most lurid outfit imaginable with slits up to _here_ and cuts down to _there_. Her taught body only tensed more when James slipped his hand under one of her dress’s many openings. She did nothing to stop the alpha’s advances, but the scent of her distress was clear, practically begging for someone to intervene. Everyone noticed, but no one seemed to care.

Theo Galavan sauntered by, a female omega draped over each arm while a third, male omega, followed close behind. A chain keeping him tethered to the alpha like a pet. A growl pushed its way past Bruce’s lips before he could stop it. It was barbaric.

The low pitch ring of a gong resonated through the lobby and the guests began to congregate towards the auction house’s main hall. Large painted doors opened to a massive room. Rows and rows of over plush chairs with red velvet covers and long, elegantly curved legs faced the auction stage at the far end of the hall. The two sections were split down the middle, the aisle following the line of three giant crystal chandeliers that hung from the gilded ceiling. Their candles lit despite the glow of natural light drifting in from the high arched windows. Blood red curtains outlined the frames and barely brushed against the oak floors. Unlike the lobby, no paintings or artworks decorated the walls. A tactic no doubt meant to keep one’s attention of the items being auctioned.

Bruce took a seat toward the back, sinking into the cushions and preparing himself for the inevitable boredom that was coming. He had no desire to purchase anything tonight, but appearances required he remain through the event regardless. This was going to be maddening

The crowd settled, and the auction began, starting with a fifteen-century vase that looked more like it belonged in a garbage heap than a luxurious auction house. The swift rambling of the auctioneer was grating against his ears and his eyes caught flashes of raised hands bidding on items.

An hour and a half crept away along with all feeling in his ass. He quelled the urge to shift in his seat when the announcer spoke. “And now, lords and ladies, our final item for this evening.” 

The doors to the main lobby opened and every head turned to see what was entering. There was a bit of murmuring at the fanfare as all the previous items had been brought in through side doors near the stage. It seemed this last item was big, and the announcer wanted to put on a show, hype up the guests after such a long event.

And big it was, in anything but size. Bruce’s eyes widened as a figure concealed by a white shawl was shuffled down the aisle towards the stage. The whispers began anew as the little figure moved passed. There was a tinkling of metal and Bruce could see chains that bound thin wrists just before they disappeared under the cover. His nose caught a honey-sweet scent and his jaw nearly dropped. An omega. Bruce wasn’t the only one who made that discovery as the whispers grew loud with excitement. 

“My lords and ladies. Alphas of every degree. We have a very special treat up for auction tonight. A breed as rare as an oasis in a scorching desert. A true diamond in the rough, beautiful and pure. An omega.” 

The noise only increased at the declaration. Instincts rose and rumbled through the room, pushing and tugging at each other as they all reached for the pure sweetness standing center stage. “Let’s start the bidding at five hundred dollars.” That’s when the shouting began. People forgoing etiquette in an effort to own the delicate flower before them. The idea of a pure omega to own and breed was almost too much for some to fathom as their instincts roared out challenge after challenge.

Bruce’s eyes fixated on the tiny figure that was the catalyst of all this madness. Even from this distance, he could see the figure curled in on itself, trying to escape the oppressive air building amongst the Alphas in the room. The scent had stirred his own alpha in a way that he hadn’t felt before. His instincts threw itself against its cage, trying desperately to reach the omega that was only a few feet away. Six hundred dollars, six-fifty, seven hundred. He was going to lose them. Lose them to a lesser alpha who would no doubt treat the omega as a trophy to fuck and display. His alpha cried out in horror. Don’t allow it. Don’t allow it! _Do Not Allow It!_

Bruce’s body shot from the chair and his booming voice overtook all the others. “Five thousand dollars.” A shocked gasp rippled through the room and he could feel himself echoing it silently. What the holy hell was he doing?! Determined not to back down, he began moving toward the stage. His alpha rose steadily, filling the dead space and pushing back all the others with ease, daring anyone to try and challenge his claim. 

Approaching the omega, he felt them shrink away in fear; his alpha pulled back immediately. Bruce blinked. That was strange. It’s never done that before. 

“Sold!” The announcer shouted, and Bruce caught the omega’s subtle flinch. He nearly growled at the man for scaring them, but he restrained himself. It wouldn’t do to frighten them any farther. He watched with bated breath as the hooded head slowly began to rise. The first thing he noticed was the omega was male. A rare find indeed. The second was that the omega was young, seemingly no older than sixteen. How long had this boy been in possession of slavers? A year? Two? His whole life? Bruce’s alpha growled, wanting to reach out and surround the boy, shield him from the lesser alphas that poked and prodded at him. The third thing was his eyes, a deep beautiful blue he had never seen before and couldn’t even begin to describe. There was something else underneath that beauty. Something not quite hidden but guarded and precious.

“Thank you, my lord, for your purchase.” The announcer startled the boy again and broke their tentative gaze, sending those beautiful blues back to his shoes. This time, the annoyed growl slipped through, but luckily it was too quiet for anyone to hear. “If you would please follow me, my lord. You’ll be able to inspect your purchase in one of the back rooms in a moment.” The announcer gestured to a side door as a servant collected the omega and guided him in the opposite direction. It took every ounce of will power Bruce possessed not to just snatch up the boy and leave. It took even more not to growl at the servant for taking him away. Another beta brushed up against him in an attempt to turn his attention away from the retreating omega and that growl escaped him, sending a shock of power through the point of contact. The corners of his mouth twitched in a pleased smirk when the host flinched away from him. The beta stuttered out a command to follow and Bruce only obeyed in an effort to remain civilized. 

He was led down a barren corridor and into an empty room. Gold trimmed the walls and ceiling and accented the white carpets. A simple chandelier hung in the center and acted as the main light source in the room. The room was devoid of any windows. There were a few candelabras flickering on the ornate tables around the room and the couches barely looked touched. It was slightly less gaudy than the lobby and main hall, but the color scheme remained the same.

“The owner will be with you shortly to discuss the terms of payment.” The door clicked shut and Bruce was left alone. He took this moment to calm himself. His lack of control was worrying. How was it that a simple omega could drag his instincts to the surface so easily? More importantly, what the hell had he been thinking? He had just bought an omega, a human being, like nothing more than cattle. He was wholeheartedly against everything that things like this stood for and he had gone and done the one thing he had always sworn he would never do. He had allowed his instincts to dictate his actions and, in the process, he was about to become responsible for another life. Completing a few simple breathing techniques, he was back to his cool collected self just in time for the door to open. Another beta entered wearing merchant clothing that seemed to fit in with the theme of the auction house. He was large, pompous, and decorated with so much gold it hurt Bruce’s eyes just to look at him. He stunk of alcohol and cheap cologne. His beard seemed to have been slathered in grease in a failed attempt to tame the wild strands. The beta bowed low.

“My lord, it is an honor.”

“You are the omega’s former owner?” Bruce questioned keeping his voice firm and steady.

The man nodded. “Yes, my lord. I am Japheth Domuz. The boy was well taken care of, well-nourished with no injuries to speak of.”

The door opened once again as the boy was brought in and Bruce almost recoiled. What the hell was he wearing?! Those weren’t clothes! The strips of cloth barely even qualified as a skirt…though he had to admit, the color did bring out the copper of his skin. He silently chastised himself. He shouldn’t even be thinking that. Not only was it not the place to do so, but it was rude and improper. The smell hit him suddenly and he forced himself not to react. It was almost as if they had dipped the boy in artificial pheromones and Bruce had to physically restrain himself as his alpha went wild, nose burning with those harsh and desirous chemicals. The gold chains around his wrists and neck nearly had him losing control again.

“As you can see my lord, he’s quite an exotic beauty; caramel skin, obsidian hair, delicate and pure.” When Domuz’s fingers brushed the ends of the boy’s hair, Bruce didn’t bother to stop the growl that slipped out. He could see the boy flinch and his hands twitched at his side, wanting to shove the beta away from him.

Domuz seemed to take a hint and quickly backed away from the omega. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I would have to say though that his best feature is his eyes. Sapphires, they are. Bluer than any I have ever seen. Imagine your heirs possessing eyes such as these.”

Bruce’s stomach dropped and he clenched his fists. He couldn’t think of that. Wouldn’t think of that. His nose caught the bitter scent of the omega’s distress and he tried to shift the conversation away from… _that_. “Clothes,” it was the first thing he could think of and was currently the most important thing. He would not have the boy walking out into a room full of alphas dressed like that.

The beta had the audacity to look at him like he had lost his mind. “Clothes, my lord?”

Bruce turned a hard glare on the merchant and Domuz blanched, shifting against the intensity of his gaze. “His clothes, Domuz. Where are they?”

“He’s…wearing them, my lord.”

His eyes narrowed as his frown deepened. This man couldn’t be that stupid. “Two yards of cloth on a string does not constitute clothing.”

“I-I’m sorry, my lord, b-but I do not have clothes that would fit him.” The merchant stuttered, and Bruce was willing to bet his last penny that it was a bald-faced lie. Fine, he would fix this himself.

“Very well,” he released the silver chain holding his cloak and tugged it from his shoulders. He took a step forward, making a conscious effort to seem as non-threatening as possible, and draped it over the boy. He watched, pleased when thin hands tugged the edges closed around him. The boy seemed to stand just a little bit taller now that he was no longer exposed. Warmth filled him from his head to his toes when those blue eyes locked on to his and he received a soft ‘thank you’. Holding back his smile, he turned his attention back to Domuz. “I will return tomorrow with the payment. Until then, I believe our business here is concluded.”

The merchant bowed as low as he could with his protruding belly. “Of course, a pleasure doing business with you, Lord Wayne.”

He started for the exit, passing the boy whose eyes had drifted back to the floor. He paused in the doorway when the boy didn’t move. “Come,” he called softly, and the boy followed him out. He cringed slightly. The boy wasn’t a dog.

The door shut behind them, cutting off the stench of the beta. The man was irritating, and he was glad to be away from the man. No doubt the boy felt the same. Bruce glanced over at him. His head was still down, submissive, his hands clutching tightly at the cloak. Bruce reached for the hood, figuring it would be easier for the boy to be concealed if they were going to make a quick getaway. He froze in place when the boy nearly jumped back in fright.

His heart clenched at the look directed toward him, blue eyes wide and nostrils flared. “It’s alright,” he said softly, hoping to placate the terrified omega before him. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you. I merely wished to raise the hood. I thought it might…make you feel more secure.” Thin hands didn’t hesitate to pull the hood over his head themselves before slipping back under the cloak.

Slightly disappointed, Bruce lowered his hand and cleared his throat. “Come along then,” he mumbled starting off down the corridor. Walking in silence, Bruce could barely hear the soft footfalls of his companion and he resisted the urge to turn and make sure the boy was still following. Muffled voices from the auction house guests grew as they got closer to the lobby doors and so did the bitter scent of distress behind him. “Stay close,” he advised before opening the door,

Entering the lobby, Dick felt the abrasive presence of all the other alphas in the room and, unfortunately, they felt him too. He quickly pulled his omega close as Lord Wayne had done, but it was too late. He had been spotted. Lord Wayne kept going and Dick increased his pace to keep as close to the man as possible. Alphas of all levels were prodding at him, tugging and pulling at his omega in a way that almost hurt. He whimpered quietly, ripping himself away from them.

The cloak was snagged and nearly torn from his grip, forcing him to stop with a startled gasp. He could feel an alpha behind him, instincts slowly crawling over him and pressing down, trying to force him to his knees. He resisted.

A snarl echoed through the suddenly deadly silent chamber as Wayne’s alpha washed over him, cleansing the other alpha from him. The man was suddenly at his side, arm around him, holding him close. Dick gasped as he was pressed into a solid warm side and he peeked out from under the edge of his hood to watch as the other alpha collapsed to his knees, face twisted in a grimace from the force of Wayne’s alpha. There were gasps and cries as the other occupants bared the brunt of Wayne’s displeasure. It was strange though. Dick couldn’t feel it. All he could feel was a comforting warmth that wrapped around him like a blanket.

Struggling to hold back the rage that implored him to tear the other’s throat out, Bruce growled and held the boy tighter. “You dare,” he hissed his voice low but seemed to carry to every ear in the building. “You dare to try and take what is not yours.” The lesser alpha let out a high-pitched whine, begging to be released. Bruce bared down harder, relishing when a thin neck bared to him, submitting without hesitation. “Remove yourself from the cloak, _menial_.”

The man scrambled away, freeing the cloak and with it the boy. Bruce pulled back his alpha but kept it wrapped securely around his charge, protecting him from the touch of the rest of the crowd and as a warning to any who dared to try after this display. He had been so stupid. He should have done this before entering the lobby and that… _little display_ would have never happened.

They managed to reach the carriage that waited in front of the doors without another incident. Bruce ushered the boy inside, only relaxing once they were well on their way. He gently pulled his alpha from the omega, even though it was reluctant to do so.

Dick watched the tension leak from Wayne’s shoulders and the warmth surrounding him slowly disappeared. He was almost sad to feel it go. This man was truly an enigma. Feeling brave, he reached up and removed the hood, noting when dark eyes followed his movements. Silence lay heavy between them. Dick struggled to keep eye contact with the Alpha, eventually giving up to stare at his lap.

A few moments later Wayne finally spoke. “I’m sorry that happened. It was negligent of me not to shield you from the start.”

Dick shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “It’s alright. It…it wouldn’t be the first time something like that has happened.”

Another threatening growl rumbled from the alpha’s throat and Dick couldn’t help but shrink away from the noise. It stopped almost immediately, and he heard a deep intake of breath. “Sorry… Even so, it shall never happen again.” The smile Dick gave was hesitant, eyes flickering to Wayne’s face and away. “What’s your name?”

Eyes met briefly, and Dick saw a softness that was entirely unlike the hardened alpha he had witnessed only moments before. This man was truly a mystery. “Richard.” The smile that he was graced with pulled his own smile to the surface. A mystery indeed.

“My name is Bruce.”

One that seemed like it may be worth solving.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Language

Bruce was not usually one to agonize over something to say. He was a solitary individual by nature and never had to worry about attempting to start a conversation without the usual awkwardness a first meeting was ripe with. Typically, the alpha was content to sit back and remain silent as his current muse filled the void with endless chatter. Richard wasn't anything like his usual company though. The boy had barely uttered two words since they entered the carriage and after the confrontation with the lower alpha, Bruce yearned to find some way to break the tension that had built between them. He just had no idea how.

As the stench of the city faded away, Bruce reached for the carriage window to release the heat trapped inside and nearly sighed with relief when the worst of the pheromones went with it. They were starting to make him dizzy and he wasn’t sure if his control would’ve lasted if he had simply tried to ignore them. The cool breeze that drifted through the open window was pleasant against his heated skin and he relaxed against the seat cushions. He refused to feel disappointed when the boy leaned away from the reach of his arm 

Richard had his gaze locked on the passing countryside. The rustic orange of the fading sun glowed against his skin, bringing out the copper and bronze undertones. Bruce knew what had the boy transfixed. The purple silhouette of the Miagani Mountains against the Gotham sunset truly was a sight to behold; it was one Bruce never grew tired of. This time, however, he was focused on a different sight. Twilight eyes took in the boy seated across from him. He truly seemed young, but Bruce suspected that had more to do with Richard’s Elfin features and high cheekbones than actual age. The omega wasn’t a man yet, his face still bore the softness of youth, but beneath it hid the sophistication one only gained with age. Black hair was long and a bit scruffy, curling gently over the tips of his ears and forehead. The evening breeze ruffled the onyx locks and a piece gently brushed the tip of an elegant eyebrow. His hair looked thick and soft, perfect for running one’s hands through or to brush away from those beautiful sapphire eyes or to grip and pull and...

Shocked, Bruce startled himself out of that line of thinking and was grateful that Richard’s attention was elsewhere as his face grew hot. Under no certain terms will he ever think of the boy that way. That was not the reason he bought him, and he wasn’t going to encourage that line of thinking. Stop it. He inwardly chastised his alpha as it growled at him to stake his claim now. He was not going to do that. The boy deserved better than an alpha controlled by his carnal instincts. Shame on him. 

Bruce was almost afraid to look back; certain Richard had heard his rebellious thoughts and the alpha would glance over to find the omega staring at him with pure disgust and hatred. He was relieved to see him still transfixed by the world outside. Bruce noticed the boy seemed to feel comfortable enough in his presence to let his guard down a bit, relaxing back into the seat as Bruce had done and releasing his iron-clad grip on the cloak. The sliver of skin that peeked out from the gap threatened to send him back into those terrible thoughts, so Bruce quickly and respectfully averted his eyes.

The sun had disappeared completely, leaving behind a faint golden glow. The trees had begun to thicken, and the terrain was smoothing out a bit. Ears picking up the sound of hooves and wheels crunching gravel, Bruce knew they had nearly reached their destination. Leaning forward to slide the curtains back into place, the alpha was silently pleased when Richard didn’t try to actively avoid him. The carriage slowed and the questioning glance thrown his way was enough to loosen Bruce’s tongue.

“We have arrived at my home,” Bruce explained when a nervous scent filled the space. Richard’s sapphire eyes locked on to thin hands clenched in his small lap. Bruce wished he had the right words to comfort his traveling companion, but no matter how much he racked his brain, they wouldn’t come.

The carriage rolled to a stop and the tension was back with a vengeance. Bruce let out a quiet sigh, already missing the peace of the ride. Stepping out before the footman could get the door, he came face-to-face with an elderly gentleman with a kind smile. “Good evening, Master Bruce. The auction was enjoyable, I hope?” A feeling of trepidation formed at the innocent inquiry. Leave it to Alfred Pennyworth to make him feel like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Yes, about that…”

Dick peered out through the crack in the curtains trying to get a glimpse of the new arrival. The man was older. Dark hair lined the sides of his head but thinned the closer it got to the top. His outfit, dark and immaculate, was reminiscent of the attendants at the auction house and it set Dick’s heart racing. The voice’s inflection was sharp and clean, evident of one who was disciplined and well educated. The accent suggested the gentleman was originally from the old world. Despite its calming tone, Dick clutched the cloak closer. 

His head was once again covered by the cloak’s dark hood. The added protection the dark cloth gave him made the thought of facing a completely new environment a bit more tolerable as he struggled to keep the rising anxiety from overwhelming him. Bruce motioned for him to come out. Swallowing nervously, he obeyed, keeping his eyes down and his head low.

This new person was a beta, of that much Dick was certain. They smelt of lye soap, freshly baked bread, and a nice, warm, Earl Grey tea. It was easy to imagine it as a scent of calm and peace and Dick could almost feel himself relaxing. Hesitantly, his omega reached out, brushing lightly against the beta, who flinched away in surprise. Dick reeled back quickly from the growing feeling of disgust and displeasure emanating from the old man. His omega retreated, nearly disappearing entirely. 

When his charge had left earlier that afternoon, Alfred expected the arrival of a house guest- perhaps one of the high society ladies like Miss Vale or Miss Kyle. He certainly hadn’t expected an omega- and a young one at that. Their scent wasn’t familiar at all. It was difficult to determine with the artificial pheromones the omega was giving off and it burned his nose. He resisted the urge to sneeze and rid his nostrils of the ungodly stench. The beta could only guess where this omega came from and the most obvious one had him reeling with horror and disbelief. Gloved hands clenched at his sides as Alfred leveled an icy glare at his master, working to keep the irate growl out of his voice. “I was not aware that you had planned on bringing home a _guest_ , Master Wayne.”

Bruce knew he was in some serious trouble when Alfred started busting out his last name. He could practically feel it, and so could Richard it seemed, as the boy shrank away from the elder man’s vexed instincts. Turing his own glare onto his second, Bruce’s alpha slipped between the beta and omega, shielding the boy from the harsh ice of Alfred and nudging the latter away. Noticing his mistake, Alfred reined in his instincts and sent the hooded figure an apologetic look. 

“Richard will be joining us this evening and perhaps for the foreseeable future. If you wouldn’t mind Alfred, I would like to make proper introductions inside.” The rapid onslaught of Fall had left Gotham's nights chilly and without his cloak, Bruce was starting to feel its effects. He was sure Richard’s bare feet were suffering just as much. Besides, the extra time would help him figure out exactly how he was going to explain everything.

Alfred could see the suppressed shivers going through both Bruce and their guest, Richard. His own joints were beginning to ache from the chill, and he conceded. “Very well, Master Wayne.” Keeping up the overly formal title, he turned to address the hidden omega. “If you would follow me, young sir. Why don’t we get you in where it’s warm?”

Dick kept his head down as he followed Alfred, as Bruce had called him, up smooth granite steps. Stepping over the threshold, granite became marble, which was only slightly warmer than the stone outside. The polished white and black design was without blemish and drew his attention to the dirt coating his feet. He curled his toes, trying to keep as little of his nasty feet from touching the beautiful floor as possible.

A low thump made him jump and he turned to see the massive set of dark oak doors closed behind him. The click of the lock sliding into place sounded too final, like the last nail sealing his coffin. Unbidden dread began to take root in his chest, making it increasingly harder to breathe.

Both beta and alpha caught the bitter scent of the omega’s distress and they shared a panicked look. “Richard,” Bruce called, keeping his voice calm and soothing. Wide eyes glanced at him before falling to the floor. “It’s alright. No one is going to hurt you here.” There was no response from the figure nor was there a change in his scent. Bruce was at a bit of a loss on what to do. Recalling how the boy reacted back at the auction house, he let his alpha grow and surround Richard _. It’s alright_ , his alpha soothed, _you’re safe here_. Gradually, that bitter scent faded.

Alfred watched in amazement as the usually reserved and guarded alpha released his carefully controlled instincts to soothe the distressed omega in front of them… and it was actually working. He had never seen Bruce do this for anyone, not even those he considered himself close to. What on earth had happened tonight that had caused his master to take such leave of his senses?

“Richard,” Bruce tried again and nearly cheered when blue eyes peeked out from under the hood. He smiled gently. “You’re safe here. I promise.” The Alpha gestured to the beta beside him. “This is Alfred Pennyworth. He’s a dear friend of mine and takes care of the house.”

“And the people that live in it,” Alfred added mirroring Bruce’s smile when the hood turned towards him, “which now seems to include you, young sir.”

Richard nodded in greeting but that wouldn’t do. “If you would be so kind, Master Richard, I would like to see you. It is quite impolite not to look someone in the eye when they are speaking to you.” He ignored Bruce’s pointed stare as he waited. There was no movement from the boy for a tense few seconds when, finally, two hands emerged from the safety of the cloak and drew back the hood. Alfred was then greeted by a pair of the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen. His smile was much easier to hold on to now. “There you are, sir.” The ghost of a smile he was awarded with was well worth his master’s glares.

Straightening his already perfect posture, Alfred proceeded with proper introductions. “As Master Bruce has already informed you, I am Alfred Pennyworth, head of my lord’s household.” He waited for the boy to give his own introduction, but when none was forthcoming, he decided to give him a tiny nudge. “May I have your name, young sir, so that I may properly address you?”

Richard’s brow furrowed. “But…you already know my name.” His voice was soft, almost as if speaking any louder would rekindle the beta’s uncomfortable ire.

“Indeed,” Alfred kept his face open and warm. “Be that as it may, I would prefer to hear it from you, young sir.”

A little puzzled, Richard looked to Bruce, who nodded encouragingly, before turning his attention back to the butler. “…Richard Grayson, sir.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Grayson.”

Eyes widening, Richard quickly shook his head. “Oh no! No…” Seeing Alfred pause at his exclamation; he quickly lowered his voice and eyes. “I…sorry. Please…please, don’t call me master. I’m…I’m no one’s master.”

“Quite the contrary, Master Grayson. Are you not the master of yourself?”

Richard seemed to shrink even further at the question and Alfred exchanged another worried glance with Bruce. “No, sir. I am not.”

Bruce’s fists clenched at his sides in response to the knot that formed in his chest at hearing Richard’s answer. Alfred looked just as distraught at the declaration, but he did a better job of hiding it. “I would have to disagree with you on that, young sir, but if it is your wish…would Mister Grayson be more preferable?”

He could do without the title or the use of his last name, but Dick got a sense that Mister Pennyworth was a stubborn individual and a stickler for propriety. He wouldn’t be persuaded to take on anything any less formal. Dick nodded his consent.

“Very good, Mister Grayson. Supper will be ready soon, but in the meantime, why don’t we get you settled into a room?” Nodding quietly, he followed Alfred and Bruce across the entryway. 

Feeling brave enough to look at something other than the expensive floor, Dick was caught off guard by the grandness of the entrance hall. Where the auction house’s luxury felt faux, Bruce’s home felt like authentic sophistication. There was a quiet intensity to it in its dark wood and cream walls. The art on the walls was meant for silent viewing much like a museum. A few potted plants steered away from the somber mausoleum feeling as faces of long-dead ancestors stared back at him from hand-carved picture frames. Mounted candelabras added light to the dark corners but none more so than the magnificent crystal chandelier. It hung with grace from the concave ceiling, casting shadows amongst the lovely crown moldings. The individual circular crystals were nearly impossible to count and reflected the light in such a way that they reminded him of tiny stars.

The grand staircase fanned out at the bottom and narrowed toward the middle before splitting in opposite directions. There were two free steps before an elegantly simple banister guided the rest up to the second floor. A crimson rug protected the African mahogany floor from wear and added an element of class.

His feet were silent on the carpet, afraid of waking the suits of armor stationed at the top of the steps. While this hallway matched the sparseness of the halls at the auction house, it lacked the same feeling of entrapment. A few yards from the end, Alfred paused at a simple oak door with a polished brass handle. “Here we are, Master Grayson.” He turned the handle and the door swung open. 

Dick had to pick his jaw up off the floor. The soft white and cream tones of the room were a far cry from the darkness of the hall. Splashes of brown from the furniture were a pleasant contrast to the silver in the decorative pillows gathered at the head of a light grey French chaise lounge couch. The couch itself looked just about as comfortable to sleep in as the massive bed arranged at the center of the right wall. A duvet of white and silver was pristine, without a single wrinkle in sight. Feathered pillows called to be snuggled just as the white fur rug surrounding the bedframe begged to be touched. A fire flickered in the light stone fireplace, illuminating the space alongside the wrought-iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Its branched arms cradled delicate crystal raindrops. A dark mahogany wardrobe stood valiantly against the opposite wall with a matching chest and set of drawers. A plush white Louis XV chair rested next to the wardrobe, perfect for throwing things over or to put on one’s shoes. Another door of simple oak led to what Dick assumed to be the washroom. Next to it, a vanity, supporting a china wash basin and pitcher, both painted with beautiful blue roses and vines. His own awed reflection stared back at him from the vanity’s spotless mirror. A train of charcoal grey blackout curtains with an underskirt of sheer white revealed a pair of glorious French doors leading out to a stone balcony. This wasn’t a bedroom; this was the quarters of a king.

“I’m staying in here?” Dick asked, his voice wavering in wonder. He couldn’t quite believe he was going to be sleeping in a room such as this.

“Of course, sir. Is it not to your liking?”

“Oh no, of course not. It’s wonderful. I just… I’ve never seen a room like this before. I wasn’t expecting to be staying in it.”

“Where did you think you would have been staying?”

Dick let out a little embarrassed laugh. “The servant’s quarters.”

Another shared look and another pointed glare had Bruce speaking up. “You’re not a servant, Richard.” The boy didn’t seem to believe him.

“Why don’t we let you get settled? Supper will be ready shortly. The washroom is through that door where a bath has been drawn up for you, should you wish to bathe. The dining room is through the set of double doors on your right once you reach the entrance hall.” Alfred explained patiently. Dick nodded his understanding and the two men turned to leave when a thought crossed his mind.

“Wait.” They both turned to look at him and he bashfully lowered his gaze. “I, uh… if it’s not too much trouble, could I perhaps get a set of clothes to change into?”

Bruce cursed silently to himself, having forgotten about that wretched skirt. Alfred answered for him. “Ah, yes. Well, it is much too late to send for the tailor, but I am sure we could find something suitable here in the house.”

Dick’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ at the mention of a tailor. “Oh, you don’t need to buy me clothes. Some old things or simple hand-me-downs will work just fine if no one wants them.”

“Nonsense, Mister Grayson. It is imperative that every man have their own set of clothes. It is only proper. You need not worry. We will take care of it.” With that, the alpha and beta left, closing the door behind them with a soft click.

The room was intensely silent, only broken by the ticking of a fancy table clock on one of the two nightstands beside the bed. At this same time yesterday, he had been locked in one of the auction house’s back storage rooms, left to eat a simple meal of gruel and bread and curl up on the straw-covered floor with a ratty old blanket. Now…now he was in a castle, about to be served a warm cooked meal with a mighty lord and sleeping on a bed of clouds. This had to be a dream.

Shaking his head, Dick opened the door to the washroom and stumbled to a halt. Stone floors were cool beneath his feet. A shelf filled with various soups, oils, and salts rested against one wall. A pristine fluffy white towel was folded neatly on another chair. In the very center of the room sat a large, ornate copper tub filled with steaming water. Candles flickered on the top of the shelf, the window seal, and on a small table by the tub.

The tips of his toes tingled at the thought of lounging back in the heated water and just relaxing, letting the stresses of the day soak away. For the first time in a long time, his smile grew so wide that it hurt his cheeks. Excited, he practically flew to the soap shelf. There was an amazing variety of scents ranging from deep, earthy tones to light, feathery aromas. He had been content with a simple lye soap when his nose twitched at a somewhat familiar scent. Curious, he picked up a small glass bottle and uncorked it. The relaxing aroma of lavender with a splash or two of vanilla filled his nose and he suddenly found himself snuggled up to a warm body that cradled him so gently yet held him so tightly. A musical voice lulled him to sleep as he pressed his nose into soft skin, breathing in the scent of lavender and vanilla. Dick had to blink away tears as his grip tightened around the bottle. “Hi, mama.” He whispered. 

Pouring a little of the oil into the water, he watched it bead across the surface. The base scent of his mother drifted through the room and a sense of calm washed over him. He could just imagine her arms holding him close.

Removing the cloak and skirt, he draped them over the back of the chair before slipping into the water. A sigh escaped his lips as the heat began working to unwind tense muscles. The soap lathered over his skin, scrubbing away the sweat and dirt and whatever weird oil the auction house servants had used on him. There were no harsh hands tearing at his skin or burning soap. There were no loud voices shouting at him to move along. Just him and a nice hot bath in a mansion that belonged to a kind lord. 

Or, seemingly kind. Gifts like this, stately rooms and privacy, they almost always came with a catch. He knew what his would be. He was an omega and Bruce was an alpha. He knew how these things worked. Knew what to expect and what was expected of him. Bruce had shown such great restraint towards him. Not forcing him to submit as he should have done the moment the transaction was finalized. Comforting him when he needed it and not smothering him when he didn’t. To be honest, he had been a little surprised that the alpha hadn’t staked his claim the moment they entered the carriage, especially after that incredible display of dominance over that lesser alpha. He had expected it. Braced for it. And when Bruce hadn’t, Dick was left reeling and re-evaluating the strange alpha that had bought him. He certainly didn’t behave like a typical alpha. Perhaps his upbringing had trained those basic carnal attitudes out of him. Perhaps he wanted to do it properly. Dick did have a bed now, after all.

Pale and slightly sick, he grabbed the soap again.

* * *

“If perhaps you were looking for the right moment to explain what the bloody hell is going on, now would be the time,” Alfred stated snatching up ingredients to begin the supper he had promised.

Bruce sighed and sat at the preparation table, watching as Alfred angrily threw things into the skillet and listening to them hiss in the heated iron. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Then pray tell, what is it supposed to look like, _sir_?” Alfred snapped. “You head off to an auction and come back with an omega. A very young omega, at that, reeking of pheromones and metal. What else am I to think?”

Bruce pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until light flashed across the black. He breathed out harshly. “Master Bruce,” the beta’s voice was careful, hesitant to tread the choppy waters of the river he was about to unleash. “Does this have anything to do with what happened with Lady Beaumont?”

A dark head snapped up with a pissed off snarl. “Hell no. I would _never_ use him like that. Ever.” The fury and disgust in the man’s face and tone convinced Alfred of his charge’s sincerity. Richard wasn’t here as a distraction.

“Then help me to understand then, sir, because I am at a loss.”

“So am I, Alfred.” Bruce launched into a rather spectacular retelling of the evening’s events, emphasizing his instincts and their strange role in his actions.

It took Alfred a solid minute to wrap his mind around what his charge had just told him. “You…are aware of how that sounds-“

“I know exactly how that sounds, but I swear to you, it’s not anything like that,” Bruce stressed tugging at his hair. “I’ve been around plenty of omegas before, even unclaimed ones, and they never made me react the way he does. I just don’t understand it.” Richard was a complete enigma to him. One he needed to figure out before he went completely mad.

“Is Richard aware of these feelings?”

Bruce shook his head and Alfred’s stare intensified. “You mean you did not inform that boy of the true reason why you purchased him in the first place?”

“There wasn’t time in that moment to explain to him the complex and vexing details of feelings even I don’t truly comprehend!”

“You had time in the carriage ride home. Why didn’t you try?!”

“It slipped my mind! Why does it matter?!” Bruce shouted, their discussion getting increasingly louder with each word.

For the second time that night, the beta’s displeasure at his alpha’s foolish actions crashed over Bruce like a tidal wave and he visibly flinched. Alfred hissed at the younger man through gritted teeth. “It matters, _sir_ because that boy is probably waiting for you to march up those steps and claim him like the alpha you are. He probably thinks the only reason you bought him was to bed him.”

Jaw slack, Bruce stared wide-eyed at his oldest friend. He was shocked, not because of the harshness of Alfred’s tone, but by the meaning of his words. He had been so caught up by his instincts that he didn’t stop to imagine the effect his rash actions would have had on Richard. “I… I didn’t even think about that.”

The fury bubbling inside the beta lessened at his charge’s realization, even if it took a severe tongue lashing to get the young alpha to look past his own nose. “I suspect you didn’t sir, as that is not something most alphas and betas have to worry about.” Bruce gave him a pained look. “I suggest you tell him, preferably before he retires for the night.”

* * *

It wasn’t hard to find the dining room. Alfred’s directions were entirely accurate and the light cutting through the dark of the hall helped a bit. He was hesitant after his not-so-pleasant realization in the bath to come down at all. He would have just been putting off the inevitable and any reason to speed up Bruce’s appearance into his bedroom was to be avoided at all costs. So, he came to supper. He carefully rolled his shoulders, trying to adjust the slightly tight linen across his chest. The clothes laid out for him didn’t fit quite right. The shirt was a bit too tight across his chest and shoulders while the pants were a tad too big at the waist. A quick search through the wardrobe, drawers, and chest failed to yield anything that he could use as a belt. Not wanting to lose his pants in the middle of supper, he turned to tearing apart his skirt. The teal fabric separated easily from the gold tie and the resulting ripping sound was all the more satisfying. The makeshift belt wouldn’t be making any fashion statements, but it did the trick. His feet were still bare, but he felt much better about walking around on the luxurious floors now that they weren’t caked in dirt.

Bruce’s cloak was folded neatly in his arms. He had thought about wearing it if nothing more than to continue with the pretend protection it had offered for the last few hours. He decided against it, not wanting to seem like he was trying to hide. He wasn’t afraid of what would happen after supper. Well, not terrified, but he didn’t want Bruce to think that he was. This man had practically saved him from a life of iron bars and golden pedestals. The least Dick could do was show him his gratitude by pleasing him. He just hoped Bruce would be gentle.

He entered what appeared to be the manor’s dining room. A bit brighter than the foyer, if only because of the various flickering candelabras and a crackling fireplace. It held two, thin, side tables, each along an opposite wall, a few potted plants, and one impressively long dining table. Free of any garnishing except for a single, three-pronged candelabra, it could easily seat twenty with extra elbow room. At the moment, though, it only seated one.

Bruce was at the head of the table, closest to the entrance. He was slouched against the high-back chair, eyes transfixed on the flames dancing in the fireplace. Some would say that his expression was neutral simply lost in the deep recesses of his thoughts. Dick would say that he seemed conflicted, burdened by some thought or choice he had made or yet to make. It caused the shy omega to hesitate in the doorway, not wanting to disturb such deep thinking. The alpha must have smelt him, though, as not long after he had entered, Bruce’s eyes snapped to him. He stood from his chair but didn’t try to approach. Dick bowed his head respectfully. “Richard,” Bruce greeted pleasantly though his voice sounded slightly strained.

“Bruce,” Dick replied, keeping his own voice soft and light. “Thank you for allowing me to clean up.”

“Of course, you are most certainly welcome.”

This was awkward. It was a strange call back to the start of their carriage ride with neither one knowing what to say to break the silence. Dick thought he should at least try, but he couldn’t come up with anything that wouldn’t make the situation worse. Thin fingers picked at the fabric in his hands before he realized what he was doing. “Oh, um, here.” Stepping closer, he held out the cloak, careful to keep his gaze down. “Thank you for allowing me to borrow your cloak. I truly appreciate it.”

“I’m glad it was able to be of some use to you.” Bruce took the article of clothing, careful not to brush against the boy’s skin as he did so. He set it in a vacant chair. Still awkward. It would do him no good to prolong this and he took a deep breath. “Richard,” he waited till the boy looked at him. “Why don’t you sit down. There are a few things we need to discuss.” He gestured to the open chair on his right.

This was it. This is where Bruce laid out the conditions of his continued presence here. Swallowing thickly, Dick clamped down on his nervousness and moved slowly to sit.

The tension skyrocketed. He knew this wasn’t going to be comfortable, for either of them, but it was best to get it over quickly. Bruce reclaimed his seat as Richard did, careful to watch for any giveaways on the boy’s face. “There is something I need you to understand here and now.” He could smell that touch of anxiety underneath the nice aroma of lavender and vanilla. It pleased him to smell that none of the artificial pheromones remained on the boy’s skin. “I did not bring you here to claim you.” The moment he said it, though, a tiny voice at the back of his mind waggled a finger at him. That wasn’t entirely true, now, was it? “I didn’t purchase you for sex.” He amended quickly. Richard’s head popped up in confusion, blue eyes locked on to his, demanding a better explanation. “I didn’t…I’m not into… _that_.”

“Then why did you buy me?”

That was the million-dollar question. Bruce ran a weary hand through his hair and let out a breathless chuckle. “Honestly, I have no idea. I just… I saw you up on that stage and… I don’t know. I guess I couldn’t stand the idea of someone else taking you.” A thin black eyebrow raised incredulously at that. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?”

The alpha shifted, chest tingling uncomfortably. “I don’t know. I just… I didn’t want you to get hurt. I wanted to protect you. My instincts...,” he tapped the center of his chest where those feelings were originating, “are very strong towards you. I can’t really explain it. But I can assure you, you’ll receive no harm from me.”

The boy’s face was unreadable, and Bruce shifted again, making sure that he was facing the omega head-on. Those beautiful eyes had yet to drop from his and he took that as a positive sign. “You are not a prisoner here, Richard. You are not my slave. You are not my property. You are free to leave should you wish, but...you are also welcome here should you choose to stay.”

Blue eyes searched and searched, and Bruce was careful not to look away. He had to make sure Richard knew he was sincere. “I... I have nowhere to go.” The boy confessed quietly, breaking the gaze.

“Then we would be happy to have you here.” Bruce counted it as a small victory when Richard rewarded him with a smile. 

There was a brief pause, a moment of calm not unlike the carriage ride before the side door to the kitchen opened. Alfred pushed in a cart and actively avoided Bruce’s gaze like he hadn’t just been waiting behind the door, listening to every word that had been said. The pleased smile on his face said otherwise, though.

The smell wafting from the cart was so succulent that Dick felt he could live off the aroma alone. A delicate china plate was placed on the table in front of him and his mouth watered. It cradled the juiciest piece of chicken breast that he had ever seen, smothered in a creamy sauce and sliced grey mushrooms. A perfect little twirl of angel hair pasta sat right beside it, glistening with a thin coat of rich, yellow butter. Next came a gorgeously cut crystal glass halfway filled with a crisp, white wine. Water was poured into the shorter, fatter glass next to it. The cutlery looked to be made of pure, perfectly polished silver; and he was almost afraid to touch it and smudge its gleaming surface with his fingerprints.

Dick could feel his stomach growling and longed to dig into the meal. Propriety, however, demanded he wait.

Bruce was just about to take a bite when he noticed Richard hadn’t moved. “What’s wrong?” He asked, lowering his fork. “Do you not like it?”

“It’s not that,” Richard responded a bit hesitantly. “As…as an omega, I am required to wait until permission is given.”

“Remember what we just talked about?” Bruce questioned with a patient smile. “You are not my property, Richard. You do not need my permission to eat. Or to live, for that matter.”

This alpha was really something else. Dick smiled his biggest smile yet and took a bite. And oh, it was heavenly. The creaminess of the sauce slid wonderfully over his tongue and he held back a moan. This was, absolutely, by far, the best thing he had ever tasted.

The meal finished without much fanfare and Dick retired to the bedroom after bidding Alfred and Bruce a polite goodnight. The sheets had been turned down and the fireplace extinguished in preparation for sleep. A set of sleep clothes, a soft yet thin shirt, and pants, had been placed on the bed for his use. The left-over fabric from his skirt had been thoughtfully removed.

Preparing to clamber into bed, he paused and glanced back at the door. He knew what Bruce had said. Knew that his scent had smelt sincere and without deception. But…just in case. He locked the bedroom door. He moved to the windows and tugged the curtains closed snuffing out the moonlight, plunging the room into a darkness that nearly swallowed him whole. It was only kept at bay by a single candle resting on a nightstand. Sliding under the silky sheets, he watched the tiny flame flicker. Tomorrow was the first day of the rest of his life and he wasn’t sure if he should be excited or anxious. Perhaps, a bit of both would suffice.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Language

“Welcome back to the Bristol Auction House, Lord Wayne.”

Bruce had barely stepped out of the coach when the auction house’s host greeted him with a low bow. It was the same beta that came between him and Richard on the auction stage, separating them and challenging Bruce’s claim. His alpha called for the young beta’s immediate submission if only to send a reminder of who the alpha was, but he ignored it and allowed the man to continue.

“If you would kindly follow me, my lord, Mister Dumoz has been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

The auction house wasn’t much different in the daylight. Instead of guests in suits and evening gowns filling its luxurious halls, there were servants and maids in plain aprons scurried about with rags, brooms, and feather dusters in hand. The faint scratch of bristles drifted about the space as workers obsessively scrubbed the wooden baseboards. 

Bruce found it rather ironic that, despite the auction house’s underground reputation and questionable events, not a single speck of dirt was allowed to remain on the priceless Persian rugs. He soon found himself back in a familiar parlor furnished with overstuffed sofas and flickering brass candelabras. Seated on one of the couches, seeming to blend in with the decorative pillows was Dumoz. His gaudy clothes were just as extravagant as they were the evening before, perhaps more so with various gold chains hanging around his thick neck. Pudgy, ring-studded fingers choked a tiny glass filled with a dark amber liquid. A smug smile peeked out from underneath a scraggly beard as Bruce entered.

“Ah, Lord Wayne. It is a pleasure to see you again, my friend. Would you care for something to drink?”

Dumoz was not someone Bruce would ever wish to associate with, much less befriend. Choosing to remain silent, he watched passively as Dumoz poured himself a glass. Bruce could smell the drink from where he stood, sugary sweet with the stench of alcohol hiding underneath. 

“It is from my home country. Wine made by your people always seems so sour to me. This… this,” he held up the drink like a trophy, “is the nectar of the gods! Made from the juices of dates, it’s much sweeter than your average grape wines.” The merchant took a generous slurp causing Bruce’s inner Alfred to cringe.

“Would you care for a taste?”

“No.” Reaching into his breast pocket, Bruce drew out a thick white envelope. “I merely came to deliver your payment.”

Dumoz’s beady, dark eyes lit up as he hastily set down his glass, precariously sloshing the leftover wine. He practically flew towards Bruce, moving faster than the alpha thought possible for a man of his size. The greedy beta snatched up the cash from Bruce’s hands and ruffled through the crisp bills. “Five thousand dollars, as agreed.” 

Dumoz laughed heartily, belly jiggling. “My good lord, you have made me a very happy and very _rich_ man.” 

“Our business here is concluded.” Bruce started making ready to leave when the beta waved a flippant hand.

“Yes, yes, but first, tell me. How was he?”

Bruce froze in his spot, feeling as if ice had been poured over his head. “Excuse me?” He hissed but Domuz disregarded the warning in his tone.

“The boy, what was he like? Did he cry, scream, beg for you to stop? Or did he beg for more? He was always compliant, especially when he was younger.” Dumoz’s eyes stared past Bruce. “He had always been a beautiful child but watching him grow into such a…delectable omega, why, the temptation was almost too much.”

The man turned away, tucking the envelope into one of his many folds as he retrieved his glass and poured out more wine. “I almost caved, you know. I may only be a beta, but I’m still a man and there were times where I almost gave in. The urge to taste that honey-sweet heat between those gorgeous legs was almost too much to bear.”

The beta’s lustful groan was nearly silent, but Bruce still heard it over the deafening pounding of his heart. The merchant was silent for a moment, lost in whatever sick fantasy his depraved mind had conjured up. It was a beat or two before Dumoz seemed to shake himself out of it. “But,” he continued, ignorant of the storm that was thundering only a few feet away from him. “I was strong. I knew he would be worth more to me untouched than whatever pitiful performance he could have given me. Even so, with every opportunity one gives up for another, I can’t help but wonder what it was that I had missed out on.”

Dumoz turned back, drink held up to his lips. “So, tell me alpha, did he taste as sweet as he smells?” Another loud sip.

How dare he?! How _dare he_?! For this man to think of his-of Richard like that… The boy was still a child and he… Bruce was shaking. His whole body quaked with the herculean effort of holding back the raging alpha inside him. He could smell the lingering stench of the beta’s fading arousal. It made him want to double over in disgust and rip the man’s throat out at the same time. Hiding his still trembling hands beneath his cloak, Bruce clenched his teeth until a sharp pain ached through the muscles of his jaw. It helped to drive back the boiling fury and clear his head.

“ _My_ omega,” he growled, watching as the excited grin on Dumoz’s face was replaced by one of trepidation, “is no concern of yours. You would do well to remember that, _beta_.”

Despite his alpha crying out for the man’s blood, Bruce spun on his heel and marched out. His mind continued to replay Dumoz’s words as he stalked through the halls, only serving to fuel the blaze that burned inside him. It appeared to be spilling over as many of the servants scrambled to get out of his path. The host attempted to stop him, inquiring about what had put him in such a state. Instead, Bruce growled, nearly roaring as he turned the brunt of that anger onto the young man. Watching in satisfaction as the beta immediately fell to his knees and bore his neck with a desperate whine. Bruce held him there before realizing exactly what he was doing. That fury morphed in horror. Frantically reeling in his vexed alpha, he all but fled the auction house.

The coach door slammed shut as he threw himself into the cushioned seat. The small carriage gave a jerk as the driver spurred the team into movement. They were traveling down Gotham’s inner streets before Bruce could remember how to breathe again. A headache was forming just behind his eyes and he pinched the bridge of his nose in a weak effort to push it away. He couldn’t believe he had lost control like that. Something like that hadn’t happened in years and yet twice in the last twenty-four hours he has been steered by his instincts. All it had taken was a few choice words about an omega he barely knew. A weary hand ran down his face and clutched at his jaw. 

What was this boy doing to him?

* * *

A sharp rap startled Dick from sleep and he half expected Domuz to come barging in, shouting at him to get his lazy ass out of bed and start on the chores. Groggily sitting up, he tried trying to get his bearings and was mildly confused to be staring at silver and white instead of muddy brown. Half-lidded eyes further wandered the room, finally spotting a burnt-out candle on the nightstand. He didn’t remember putting it out last night.

For a split second, his brain thought it was a dream. One where he would wake up to the disgusting beta’s terrible bellowing. He closed his eyes, clenched his fists around the covers, and counted backward from ten. It was all a dream. A horribly wonderful, gloriously cruel dream. Opening his eyes, he was still in the delightfully soft bed with a feathered pillow at his back and silk sheets around his legs. It was real. It was all _real_.

The noise came again, and his eyes shot to the door. Someone was out there, wanting to come in. The knock came again, and this time, it was accompanied by a familiar accented voice.

“Mister Grayson?”

Alfred was at the door. Alfred was real and so was his amazingly delicious meal from last night. He never did figure out what it was called. Another knock. “Mister Grayson?” Dick’s eyes widened. _Alfred_ was at the door. Throwing the covers off of him, he scrambled to the edge of the bed and cursed silently when the covers refused to release his legs. He tugged out of their all-too-comfortable hold and shot to his feet.

“It’s Alfred Pennyworth, sir.” 

Dick was aware of that but he wasn’t anywhere near decent enough to be taking visitors yet. He needed something to cover up with, like, now. Mumbling a curse under his breath as the fallen sheets tried to trip him up, Dick lunged for the wardrobe, silently begging for it to have something in its depths for him to use. He nearly cheered when he spotted a solitary housecoat hanging from the bar. Ripping it from the hanger, he shoved his arms into the sleeves.

“I apologize for the interruption sir, but I have brought breakfast for you.”

Wait, breakfast? His eyes flew to the table clock situated on the opposite nightstand and he sucked in a sharp breath. It was nearly midday!

“Mister Grayson?” More knocking.

“Uh, one moment please,” he called, snapping the robe closed around him and knotting the sash tight. He ran for the door, glaring at the sheets when they tried one last time to send him to the floor. Combing his fingers through his hair, Dick attempted to tame his unruly bed-head. He took a deep, calming breath as he undid the lock and swung open the door. 

Alfred smiled down at him with bright eyes and a silver tray of food in his arms. “Good morning, Mister Grayson.” He greeted cheerfully.

“Good morning, Alfred,” Dick responded, respectfully lowering his gaze. 

“May I come in?”

“Oh, of course,” Dick quickly stepped to the side. 

Alfred crossed the threshold with a polite, “thank you”, heading straight for the far table, blessedly missing the crumpled mess of sheets half draped on the floor.

“I trust you slept well.” He inquired, setting the tray gently on the table. The butler began pulling dishes from it; a soup bowl with something yummy and steaming inside it, a crystal water glass, and a china cup and saucer.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” Dick said quickly. “I must apologize, I don’t usually sleep this late.” His hands automatically went to the knot in the robe ties, making sure it was properly secured.

“Think nothing of it, sir,” Alfred replied, placing a napkin and eating utensils in their proper spots. “Given the day you must have had yesterday, I won’t begrudge you a few extra hours of sleep.”

Dick almost snorted. Sleeping till noon was a little more than ‘a few extra hours’, but he let it go. He didn’t want to seem rude.

“Tell me, sir,” the butler continued, “how do you like your coffee?”

Dick blinked. “Coffee?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Um,” he twisted the fabric of the robe’s ties. “I don’t know. I’ve never had it.” He tried not to feel embarrassed over such a simple thing. He blushed anyway.

Alfred either didn’t, or pretended not to, see. “That’s quite alright. I can get you something else if you would like.”

He shook his head quickly. “Oh no, this is fine. I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way.” 

Alfred gave the boy a patient smile. “Mister Grayson, as much as I appreciate the thought, it _is_ my job.”

Dick’s cheeks got a smidge warmer. “Right, of course.” How silly of him. Thin hands all but wrenched apart the ties. “I suppose…I wouldn’t mind giving it a try.”

“Excellent,” Alfred grinned, turning back to the waiting breakfast. Retrieving a silver coffee pot from the tray, he poured out a steaming cup of dark roast coffee. Adding a generous splash of white cream and two spoonfuls of granulated sugar, he gently blended the drink till the liquid was a beautiful light brown. He handed Dick the cup.

Careful not to spill a single drop on the pristine wood floor, Dick brought the drink to his nose. A rich, nutty aroma filled his senses along with something akin to roasted caramel hidden beneath. Tentatively, he took a small sip. It tasted almost exactly as it smelt, with just a hint of a bitter bite at the end. It was a lot better than he thought it would be.

“It’s good,” Dick said with a smile and he took another sip.

“I’m glad you enjoy it.” Alfred stepped back and gestured for Dick to take a seat at the impromptu breakfast table. “Cream and sugar are on the tray should you wish to add more or make another cup yourself.”

“Okay, thank you.” His eyes were drawn to the bowl directly in front of him filled with a type of porridge topped with different slices of fresh fruits. It was a masterpiece for the eyes and surely one for the palate. “This looks delicious, Alfred. Thank you.”

“You are welcome, young sir,” Alfred replied. 

Dick set down the cup to retrieve the spoon. He was actually quite excited to taste the food. Looks were certainly deceiving. The plain porridge was anything but, sweetened with the perfect amount of honey. The fruit also gave the dish a nice shot of tart. It really was amazing, even if it was just porridge.

“I wish to inform you that the tailor will be here shortly to fit you for a new wardrobe. In the meantime, I have brought you another set of clothes to wear.” The beta waved to the neatly folded pile resting on the seat of the chair next to him. 

Dick nearly choked at the announcement, having completely forgotten about yesterday’s mention of a tailor. “I…you don’t have to do that, you know.” He said shifting uncomfortably in the chair, not meeting the beta’s eye.

“Do what, Mister Grayson?” Alfred asked innocently.

“Call a tailor. I’m perfectly fine with wearing some old clothes if no one wants them. You don’t need to spend the money.” They really shouldn’t. It wasn’t worth it when old, unwanted items suited him just fine.

The man fixed him with an understanding yet entirely stubborn look. “While your efforts to remain frugal are admirable, they are not necessary. A small set of clothes will not place any kind of financial burden on us at any time in the foreseeable future. You need not worry about that.” Alfred explained, stern enough just to make sure the message got through Dick’s thick skull. The butler shifted, straightening his shoulders. “Now, is there anything else I can get for you, Mister Grayson?”

_Don’t complain about getting nice things. Got it._ Knowing a losing battle when he saw one, Dick sighed softly and shook his head. “No, Alfred, thank you.”

“Very well. Please, finish your breakfast. I will return to collect you once the tailor has arrived.” He bowed his head, before gliding gracefully from the room. 

The door closed with a click before Dick realized…no one had ever bowed to him before. Gestures like that were reserved for higher ranking castes; alphas, high betas, maybe even a high omega, but not for him. Never for him. Shaking his head to get rid of the unsettling feeling, Dick took another bite of porridge.

Finishing the bowl wasn’t a chore. Of the whole two meals he’s had since arriving, Dick’s concluded that Alfred was a master in the kitchen. After helping himself to one more delicious cup of coffee, though just a smidge too sweet, Dick cleaned up what he could of the mess; organizing the used dishes and utensils onto the tray and wiping down the table. He hoped it helped Alfred out just a little. 

The new set of clothes fit about as well as the last two, this time with an overly large shirt and too-small pants. Staring at his reflection in the vanity mirror, Dick plucked at the baggy material of the shirt. Perhaps having clothes that actually fit wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe then he’d stop looking like a child trying to fit in a man’s clothes. He combed his fingers through the shaggy black locks hanging in front of deep blue eyes. A haircut wouldn’t hurt either.

Once he had deemed himself presentable, there was a polite knock at the door. “Come in,” he called, and Alfred entered.

“Mister Grayson, the tailor has arrived.”

“Alright,” Dick replied, moving toward the tray still resting on the table. Alfred stopped him.

“You can leave that there, Mister Grayson. I’ll see to it.” Alfred stated and Dick paused.

“Are you sure? I can-“ The butler leveled him with another look that quickly had him backing off with a blush. “Right, your job. Sorry. It’s just…I’m not used to being waited on.”

“It’s perfectly understandable, young sir. I dare say you’ll get used to the idea soon.” Alfred assured. “Shall we?” He gestured to the open door. Dick nodded and followed him into the hall, remaining five steps behind as required.

Everything was much lighter now than it had been the night before. There were more artworks lining the walls than he thought. Beautiful vases and mini sculptures rested on wooden pedestals and end tables. Paintings brought a bit of color to the walls. Candelabras had been extinguished in favor of the natural light that poured in through scattered windows.

“This tailor I’m meeting? Who is he?” Dick asked trailing Alfred down the hall, past the sentinel knights.

“His name is Peter Gambi. His family has been tailors for generations and the Wayne family has utilized their services for many years. Trust me, Mister Grayson, you’ll find no one with better quality in Gotham.”

Descending the grand staircase was a lot less intimidating in the daytime. Sunlight streamed through tiny windows in the domed ceiling that he had failed to notice the night before. It reflected beautifully off the crystals on the chandelier, making it sparkle in a way candlelight never could; it was enchanting.

Alfred turned left once they reached the bottom, entering another hallway almost hidden alongside the staircase. A few more turns and they reached a room that appeared to be an unused parlor. The furniture was pushed along the walls to accommodate a small platform with three full-length mirrors curved around it. Two of the parlor’s tables had been set on either side of the mirrors, one holding bolts of colored fabrics and the other a bag with various tools. An inkwell and pen rested on the clear space next to a blank piece of paper. The tailor, Peter Gambi, stood by the platform, a huge grin nearly splitting his face. He didn’t seem that much older than Dick. He was tall and thin with cocoa brown hair and eyes. His clothes fit him like a glove, giving his body dimensions he would never get from factory-produced clothing.

Seeing his clients had entered the room, the tailor immediately approached Dick and grasped his hand. “Hello, my name is Peter. I am honored to be making some clothes for you today.” He vigorously shook Dick’s hand. The mans’ smile widened, crinkling the corners of his eyes and freaking Dick out a little.

Peter was obviously a low-level beta, his instincts barely scraping against Dick’s own. Dick was a bit taken back by his forwardness and horrendous breach of caste rules. Proper protocol demanded any new visitor greet the highest-ranking caste first, which would have been Alfred in this situation. Peter ignored that, and so did Alfred. Neither one of them paid any mind to what should have been a serious offense. Thrown a little off guard, Dick just let the man shake his hand.

“Um, I’m Dick.” He replied, returning the man’s greeting, wincing when he realized he had accidentally slipped back to an old nickname, completely missing Alfred’s intrigued eyebrow.

“Well, Dick, why don’t we get started on your measurements?” Peter suggested pulling out a long piece of marked ribbon from his pocket.

Looking back at Alfred with a slightly apprehensive look, the encouraging nod he received got his feet moving. Stepping up on the platform, Dick froze when Peter touched him to adjust his position. 

Sensing his client’s growing nervousness, Peter began to talk in an effort to pull Dick’s focus to something else. He spoke about his trade and everything he would be doing during today’s appointment. There would be another fitting apparently. He spoke about his family and the brother that shared the same occupation only in a different city. 

The chatter worked as Dick felt his muscles ease out of the tensed state he was holding them in. He couldn’t quite hold back a flinch though when the man came a little too close to his groin. Peter sent him an apologetic smile.

As Peter worked, Alfred moved to the fabrics table, gradually sorting through each one, approving some and rejecting others. Peter flittered between taking measurements and marking them on the blank sheet of paper. His enthusiasm was both heart-warming and overwhelming as his quick movements reminded Dick of an energetic hummingbird.

Just as his feet were starting to fall asleep, Peter gleefully announced the end of the appointment. “That’s everything,” he said stuffing the ribbon back into his pocket as he jotted down a few last-minute notes. “Was there anything else you required?”

“Mister Grayson,” Alfred called, pulling the boy’s attention away from the other beta. “I have pulled aside a few fabrics, but you are more than welcome to come and decide for yourself.”

Dick shook his head. “I’m sure whatever you’ve chosen will be fine, Alfred.” He replied lest he chose a more expensive fabric than the ones Alfred had already picked out.

“Very well,” the butler turned to the tailor. “That would be all for today then, Mister Gambi. When should we expect you for the next fitting?”

“I should be back in a few days or so with some finished products to try,” Peter replied, already packing away his tools and wrapping up the strips of fabric. “I’ll send word when I am ready.”

“Very good, sir. Once you are finished, someone will see you out. Good day to you, sir.”

“Good day to you too, Mister Pennyworth,” Peter replied, pausing in his task as to not appear rude. “And give my best to Lord Wayne.”

“I will do so.”

Peter turned his gaze to Dick and smiled kindly. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Dick.”

“Uh, you too, Mister Gambi,” Dick replied slightly startled to hear the nickname again.

“Well, Mister Grayson,” Alfred said. “I dare say that I’ve worked up quite a thirst. What would you say to a nice cup of afternoon tea?”

The beta’s words turned his attention to the scratchiness of his own throat and he nodded with a smile. “Sounds wonderful, Alfred.”

“Come along then sir. I do believe I have some Camellia leaves in the cupboard.”

* * *

There was a sharp rap on his office door and Bruce answered with a distracted ‘come in’. He could feel the two betas the moment the door opened, and the alpha didn’t bother to hold back a groan. The pair marched toward him like twin tornados, one personifying the eye and the other, the storm itself. Twin pairs of shoes clicked across the marbled floor and echoed around the silent space. Bruce ignored them, choosing to focus on the words forming underneath the tip of his pen. The men stopped just before his desk. 

“Is there something I can do for you, gentleman?” He asked not bothering to glance up.

“What the hell were you thinking?” No ‘hellos’ or ‘nice to see yous’. Straight to the point, just like Jim always preferred. 

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”

Hands slammed down on his desk, rattling the cup of pens and paperweights. “Damn it, Bruce! Don’t play games with me! You know exactly what I’m talking about!”

Sighing heavily, Bruce set down his fountain pen and glanced up to see both Lucius Fox and Jim Gordon staring at him like disappointed parents. Jim’s beta was bubbling with anger and frustration. Lucius was much calmer, his beta more curious than angry. Bruce wasn’t sure how long that calm would last and he preferred to get this confrontation over quickly. “I don’t know.”

The flippant answer made Jim’s face darkened with rage. “You don’t know? What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?! I’m talking about last night when you _bought an omega_! An omega, Bruce!”

“I am aware of what he is and what I did. What’s your point?” The Alpha growled, knowing full well Jim’s fury was starting to boil over. For the moment, he didn’t care. He was wrung out and tired from this morning’s meeting with Domuz. All Bruce wanted was to finish his work in peace and go home. 

Jim opened his mouth, determined to give the frustratingly stubborn alpha a piece of his mind when a hand was placed on his shoulder. Lucius’ calm spread out to soothe the conflict building in the room.“I think what he means, Bruce, is why?”

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Bruce responded. “I can't tell you why.” 

Jim shifted under Lucius’ calming hand when the older beta gave his shoulder a light squeeze as a reminder to stay calm. “’Can’t tell’ as in you don’t wish to or…”

“As in I don’t know myself.” Bruce leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his forehead, exasperated. “I can’t tell you what possessed me to buy the omega last night. All I know is everything inside me was screaming not to let him go, so I didn’t. I haven’t harmed him, and I have no intention of mating with him.”

Lucius stared at him with such a calculating look that Bruce had to keep from fidgeting in his chair. 

Jim’s irritation quickly faded, but he was in no way going to accept that explanation. “That's all well and good, but how do you think the public is going to react…”

“I don’t really give a damn what the public thinks,” Bruce growled.

Jim let out a huff of air. “Bruce, Wayne Enterprises funds many charities and organizations dedicated to stopping the trafficking of omegas. What do you think is going to happen when they get wind of what you’ve done?”

Bruce honestly hadn’t thought about that. There were so many repercussions connected to the one choice, it was making his head spin. A headache throbbed at his temples.

“There’s no point in worrying about that now. What’s done is done.” Lucius said but Jim wasn’t.

“What do you plan to do with him?”

Bruce’s head snapped up. His alpha roared, offended by the implication. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” He hissed.

“I need to know if I should be dragging you out of here in chains,” Jim replied, his eyes hard. “What you did technically wasn’t illegal, not yet, but I can arrest you for intent.”

“Intent of what exactly?”

“I’m sure I could think of something.” Bruce held Jim’s gaze, each daring the other to break first. If Bruce didn’t know any better, he’d think Jim truly was an alpha with the way his instincts fought with Bruce’s. It took a few more tense moments before Jim receded with a sigh. He ran a hand through his graying ginger hair. “Look, I want to give you the benefit of the doubt, I really do, but…”

“I understand,” Bruce said, his voice growing soft. “I want him to be safe and happy. I won’t hurt him.”

Humming, Jim nodded. “I’ll hold you to that.” He gave a curt bow to the alpha before spinning on his heel and marching out the door. Once the door clicked shut, Bruce let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding.

“He’s not wrong to be suspicious, you know. After everything he’s seen…” Lucius trailed off.

“I know.” Bruce wouldn’t hold it against him, even if his alpha wanted to hang on to the grudge. Jim was a good man, a good friend. Good friends were meant to call you out on your bullshit, even if it annoyed the hell out of you.

“You really have no intention of mating the omega?”

It was Lucius’s turn to be graced with the sharpness of the alpha’s stare. “Absolutely not. He’s just a boy.”

“How old is he?”

That gave Bruce pause. He didn’t have a clue how old Richard was. The omega certainly looked young, but that didn’t mean he was. Bruce shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not mating with him.”

Lucius hummed. “I’m afraid you may turn out to be a liar, Lord Wayne.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Give it time and I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Lucius gave a small, polite bow. “I’ll take my leave now. Those reports aren’t going to write themselves. Good afternoon, Lord Wayne.”

Bruce huffed as the office door shut for a second time. Why was it the wisest men in his life were also the most cryptic? He picked up the pen, intent on finishing the memo. But, like Domuz’s words from earlier, Lucius’s echoed around his head. He hadn’t been lying. He had no intention of mating Richard. It didn’t matter how old he actually was or that he was incredibly beautiful. It wasn’t going to happen. Bruce just wanted the boy to be happy. There was just this teeny tiny part of him that almost wished for Richard to be happy with him. Bruce groaned and tossed the pen away, cradling his head in his hands. How is that he always managed to get himself into these messes?

* * *

Bidding one last polite goodbye to Peter, Dick followed Alfred back through the halls, trying not to get lost amongst the unfamiliar twists and turns. It wasn’t long before Alfred was holding another door open for him. “During normal eating hours, we would seat ourselves in the dining hall, but I think that a simple afternoon tea will allow us to be a tad informal. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Bruce wouldn’t mind?” Dick asked slightly worried about how the alpha would react to seeing the two of them conversing over drinks in the kitchen.

“Seeing as you and I are the only two individuals in this household currently partaking of the beverage, I’d say we could get away with it.” The beta said, his eyes twinkling.

Smiling, Dick entered the vast kitchen, unable to stop himself from taking everything in. Two long islands ran parallel to each other down the center of the room, though one was only half the length of the other. Both had built-in drawers with different bowls and jars lining the middle of their surface. A single floor-to-ceiling cabinet stretched the entire length of the wall to his right and it glittered with brilliantly polished copper kitchenware. Two more cabinets just like it bracketed an enormous dormant fireplace, complete with rotisserie and other gadgets. High arching windows let in natural light, negating the need for candles during daytime hours. The left wall, where Alfred had immediately gone, supported a row of ovens in various sizes. His mother would have loved this kitchen.

“Feel free to have a seat at the bar, Mister Grayson,” Alfred said busily lighting a fire under one of the smaller stovetops. He filled a copper kettle as Dick grabbed an empty stool and sat directly across from where the butler was working.

“Alfred?” He asked, trying to gauge where the kitchen was located from what he knew of the manor. “Where is the dining room from here?”

“Just through that door, sir.” The man gestured to a door to his left, perpendicular to the door that they had entered through. Had they kept going straight in that last hallway, they would have ended back in the foyer with the dining room a little farther up on the right.

“I suppose after tea; a tour would be in order. It would be a shame to lose you in this big old house.”

“Is it that big?”

“Big enough,” a beautiful china pot was set on the island, having been warmed and prepared. “There are ten individual bedrooms with corresponding washrooms, various dens, and studies, as well as multiple recreational rooms. We also have a gallery, ballroom, and other assorted rooms.”

It took Dick a moment to realize that he was staring. “Wow, that’s a lot of rooms.”

“Indeed.”

“And you use all of them?”

“Not necessarily,” Alfred replied, pouring heated water from the kettle over the leaves resting on the bottom of the prepared teapot. Placing the lid on the pot, he let it sit. “The extra rooms were once used to host foreign dignitaries and guests that would come for one of the manor’s grand balls. But we have not hosted one of those in a very long time.”

“Why not?” Dick asked. The tightness around Alfred’s eyes made him wonder if he should’ve asked.

“Master Bruce has not felt inclined to throw a party like that since the passing of Thomas and Martha Wayne.”

“Oh,” Dick said, his voice softening. “His parents?”

Alfred nodded stiffly. “Indeed.”

Dick’s fingernail picked at the grain of the island’s wooden top, wondering if he should even ask his next question. “What happened to them?”

The beta’s brow pinched farther. “It is not my place to say, sir.”

“Right, I’m sorry.” Dick amended quickly, wanting to banish the unpleasant scent coming from the beta.

“Don’t apologize for being curious, Mister Grayson. You couldn’t have known.”

“Even so, I _am_ sorry.”

“Your condolences are appreciated, young sir.”

Silence reigned as Alfred strained the tea into two cups. Wanting to dispel the tension he had caused, Dick steered to a safer subject.” So, what does Bruce do?”

“Master Bruce is the head of Wayne Industries, which focuses on manufacturing, shipping, and chemical production. He also currently holds a chair on the city council as well as the World’s Justice League Association.”

“He sounds like an important man,” Dick commented gratefully taking his drink from Alfred. The temperature was perfect and, after a spoonful of honey, so was the taste. “Sounds like he won’t be around much.”

“He is a busy man, yes, but I’m sure you’ll see him around more than you think,” Alfred said, taking a sip of his own tea.

A sinking feeling washed over Dick as he played with the rim of his cup. “Alfred?” His voice was low and filled with trepidation. He noticed the stiffness returning to the butler’s posture and fixed his gaze on the steaming liquid in front of him. _Please don’t get mad. Please_.

“Yes, Mister Grayson?”

Dick licked his lips. “What…what does Bruce expect from me?”

Alfred’s brow furrowed, a little worried about what was going through the young master’s head. “Whatever do you mean sir?”

“Why am I here? What does he expect from me? What role do I play here?” Dick asked in a rush, getting a bit agitated.

Alfred’s face softened. “My dear boy, whoever told you that you had to fill a role to live here?”

Dick just stared at the man, not quite believing what he was hearing. What was wrong with these people?! Don’t they know anything about proper caste behavior and roles? “The World? Society? Practically everyone?!”

“Has it ever occurred to you, sir, that the world is wrong?” Alfred smiled gently, realizing from the boy’s puzzled look that he was floundering. “Richard, you do not need a role to live here. You don’t need to be useful to earn your place. You are our guest and one we are immensely glad to have. Please, trust us when we say, you are not a burden.”

How could he ever truly believe that? Alfred looked so sincere. His voice was moving and his scent clean, but Dick couldn’t bring himself to believe him. He just couldn’t. Unable to swallow, Dick pushed away his half-drunk teacup. “I’m sorry Alfred, I don’t think I can drink anymore.” Talking was hard too.

“Perfectly understandable, sir,” Alfred replied gently, taking both cups and setting them at the edge of the counter. “Why don’t we go ahead and get started on that tour.”

Nodding quietly, Dick slid off his stool, careful to remain behind the beta. He worked on keeping his footsteps silent and made sure to memorize every place Alfred showed him. As the tour progressed, Alfred’s scent grew more at ease, no doubt forgetting their conversation. Dick couldn’t though. One phrase kept repeating, over and over in his mind. _Who told you that you had to fill a role?_ The answer was Domuz, the traders and masters, and every alpha or beta that had inspected him at the innumerable auction houses and markets. Even other omegas said life would be much easier for him if he just played his part. Practically every person he had ever met said the exact same thing. Except…Bruce and Alfred. Just who exactly were these people? Maybe…

He roughly shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts, careful not to let Alfred see. Dick’s only been here less than a day. Things will change. Their kindness will come with a price. It always does.

“Here we have the library.”

Dick’s head came up sharply. “Wait, did you say library?”

The older man grinned. “Indeed, I did sir.”

“A real library?” Dick continued in disbelief. “With actual books?”

“Well sir, you tell me.” With that, Alfred threw open the doors. Dick’s jaw dropped.

Books. Hundreds of books. _Thousands of books_. All lining the shelves that covered every inch of wall space. The whole room was illuminated by two chandeliers half the size of the one in the grand hall. They hung, glittering, from a painted ceiling reminiscent of Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. Instead of God and man, images of dragons and Faye danced across it, stretching out on whole islands or flying through treetops. Tables dotted the free space in the center of the room, perfect for studying. He nearly passed out when he discovered there was a second floor.

“I take it the library is to your liking?” Alfred asked playfully.

Running his fingertips delicately over the spines of the books on the lower shelves, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “It’s brilliant,” Dick stated, still in awe. He’s never seen so many books before. “It’s amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Alfred chuckled.

“Could I…may I stay in here?” Dick asked, eyes bright, having forgotten completely about the kitchen conversation.

“I thought you might want to, sir, that’s why I made it the last room of the tour,” Alfred replied, taking great pleasure in seeing a young person so enthusiastic for literature. “I’ll retrieve you when it is time for dinner.” He bowed out of the room, trying to maintain a smile in the boy’s presence.

The smile dropped the second Alfred disappeared around the corner. The beta was immensely glad that the boy was happy now, but their earlier conversation left a sour feeling in his chest. He hadn’t realized how truly damaging the young master’s time with the slavers had been and it was going to require more than a single night’s conversation to banish all of his fears. Heading toward the kitchen, the urge to clean something itched at Alfred’s fingers. He and Master Bruce needed to have a serious talk.

* * *

“He said that?” Bruce asked, gazing up at the beta.

Alfred nodded solemnly. “Indeed sir. It seems he is under the impression he must earn his way.”

The alpha sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had barely gotten through the door when Alfred ambushed him, corralling into the front sitting room to talk. The beta then went on to inform him of the conversation with Richard earlier that afternoon. It was disheartening to hear the boy didn’t believe Bruce expected nothing from him despite the alpha’s speech the night before. It saddened Bruce greatly to know the boy’s views of himself and his caste were so low.

“What do I do Alfred?” He asked.

“You need to speak with him, sir.” 

“I tried that already. Apparently, it didn’t take.”

“Then try again and back up your words with action,” Alfred replied, folding Bruce’s cloak over his arm. “That boy’s trust is not going to be easily earned. The world has jaded him. He needs to see that not all alphas are the same.”

“How exactly am I supposed to do that?”

“By being kind to him sir,” Alfred replied, rolling his eyes. “It seems most of the alphas he’s met have not been very cordial.” The beta could see the gears in the man’s head turning. “You’ll find him in the library, sir. He seems rather taken with the space.”

That made Bruce smile. “Really?”

“Indeed, last I checked, he was deeply engrossed in the works of Voltaire.”

“He has great taste.”

“I quite agree. Once you have finished your talk, do bring him down for dinner. I’ve made pan-seared pork chops with collard greens.”

“Sounds delicious,” Bruce said absent-mindedly as he began the trek towards the library. The room sat at the rear of the house which gave him a few minutes to work out exactly what he would say. He wished he could banish the boy’s fears with some well thought out words but frankly, Alfred was right. He had a feeling actions would have more of an impact on Richard than simple words. He would just have to figure out what actions specifically.

The alpha wondered how long-ago Alfred had peeked in on the boy as Bruce found him curled up underneath the bay windows. Feet hidden underneath a cushion and a book in small hands, the image pulled at Bruce in a way that he couldn’t explain. It was positive though. At least, Bruce thinks it’s positive. Whichever of Voltaire’s works rested in Richard’s lap, it held his attention as the boy didn’t seem to notice the alpha at all. Bruce cleared his throat.

The slightly bewildered expression Bruce was graced with made that positive feeling tug harder and the man had to force back a grin. It took Richard a moment or two to realize who exactly was in the room with him and that expression turned to surprise. The omega’s jaw slackened and blue eyes widened.

“It must be quite a story,” Bruce commented as he clasped his hands casually behind his back.

“Yes, it…” Richard trailed off. He glanced down at the book, then at his feet, and then back at Bruce. His eyes widened further, and he quickly yanked his feet free of the pillow before jumping to them. “I apologize- “

“It’s alright,” Bruce assured him quickly. “You are more than welcome to use this room as you see fit.”

“Even so, I shouldn’t put my feet on your furniture.” Richard’s head dropped.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Alfred.” That got him a small smile. “In all honesty, I don’t mind. I like to be comfortable when diving into a good book. It’s also nice to see someone actually reading in here for a change.”

“You don’t?” The boy asked timidly.

Bruce shook his head. “Not as much as I used to, I’m sad to say. I've been too busy as of late for any casual reading.”

“What do you read then?”

“Quarterly reports and the like. They’re rather boring really.”

“And if you could choose? What would you pick?”

“If I could choose?” Bruce took a few steps closer, delighted to see that the light conversation was driving away Richard’s shyness bit by bit. “I would probably choose _Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World_.”

Richard hummed. “I don’t believe I’ve read that one.”

“You should. It’s quite an interesting tale, with six-inch men and wars over boiled eggs.”

“Sounds interesting,” Richard chuckled. “If you don’t mind me asking, just how many books are in this library?”

Bruce shrugged. “About fifty thousand or so, give or take.”

The boy’s jaw dropped and Bruce bit down on a laugh. “Fifty thousand?!” Blue eyes roamed the expansive shelves. “You could live a hundred lives and hardly make a dent in that number.”

“That was the hope.” He dared to move slightly closer, pleased when Richard didn’t flinch or grow nervous with the proximity of his presence. He was given a questioning head tilt that was rather endearing. “My great-great-grandfather built this library. He wanted a place to house a hundred thousand different worlds and began collecting every piece of written literature he could find.”

Richard huffed pleasantly, holding the book to him as if it was something precious. “That actually sounds a lot like me.” It was Bruce’s turn to give an inquisitive glance. “It was one of the few things Domuz actually let me do. He didn’t care as long as I had finished all of my work and didn’t bug him. I guess he thought it kept me out of trouble. I’d read whatever I could get my hands on. Dinner recipes, philosophy textbooks, political pamphlets. Anything.” He glanced down at the book and caressed the hardcover. “I guess you could say books were my sanctuary.”

“I’m glad you had something to help you,” Bruce said, not really sure what else to say.

The boy nodded, lost in his own thoughts.

Bruce supposed now was the time to bite the bullet. “Richard, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” That bitter scent was back and Bruce rushed to reassure the boy. “You’re not in any trouble. There are just some things I wanted to understand.” 

“Ok,” Richard said softly, but the nervousness didn’t fade.

“May, uh, may we sit?” Bruce asked, gesturing to the bench. Richard didn’t reply. He merely sat at the edge as if ready to run. Bruce couldn’t say he didn’t feel the same. The Alpha made sure there was a good bit of space between them when he settled onto a cushion.

Bruce figured the best way to broach the subject was to just put it out there. “Alfred told me about your conversation in the kitchen today.” He paused when Richard hid behind his bangs. “I don’t want you to think he was betraying your trust by coming to me behind your back, but what you said worried him and, quite frankly, it worries me too.”

“I’m sorry,” Richard muttered, visibly shrinking away in fear. 

“No, no,” Bruce rushed, turning to face the boy. “I’m…I’m not telling you this so you’d think you did something wrong. You didn’t. I’m actually glad you felt comfortable enough to tell Alfred about it. We want to know how you’re feeling, Richard. We want you to feel safe and comfortable here. What we want to know is why you feel that way. Why do you feel you need to fill a role to be here?”

Richard shrugged. “That’s the way it is. If you want something, you have to earn it. If you want to be happy, you have to do what your alpha tells you. It’s what I was taught.”

“And once something is learned, it can be hard to unlearn,” Bruce commented. Richard nodded in agreement. “However, you do realize we don’t expect that here, right? You don’t have to play a role or earn your keep.”

“But I don’t understand why?” Richard replied desperately. “The rest of the world doesn’t think the same as you.”

“We aren’t like that rest of the world.”

Richard scoffed. “Yeah, I get that.”

Bruce shifted in his seat. “Richard, we aren’t a traditional pack. I don’t believe a person’s caste defines their role in society because it doesn’t. We choose our own destinies.”

The boy was silent for a moment, seemingly collecting his thoughts. “…But, the auction…I…you’ve done so much for me already, I can’t just _not_ do something- “

“Richard, I didn’t buy you so you could spend the rest of your life trying to repay a debt that isn’t there. I did it so you could be free. I believe every man deserves freedom and that includes you. You should be free to make your own choices and do whatever it is that you want.” Bruce leaned forward slightly. “Does that make sense?”

Richard nodded. “There’s just one problem.”

“And what’s that?”

“…I don’t know how.”

Bruce’s brow pinched in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve…” Richard licked his lips. “I’ve been following someone else’s lead for so long, I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what aspects of myself are me.”

Oh. That could prove to be a very confounding problem. But one that may have a solution. “Books.”

Richard finally looked at him, puzzled by his single word. His skin wrinkled right between his eyebrows. “What?”

“You told me the one thing you truly enjoyed during your time with Domuz was books. Books are you. We are what we love. For you, that’s books.”

Rich glanced down at the novel, turning it over in his hands. “I suppose…

“What else do you like?” Those blue eyes returned to him and Bruce couldn’t help but feel a little giddy at the thought of helping the omega with this puzzle.

“I…” The boy glanced away, eyes flicking in thought. “Art.” He firmly stated.

Bruce smiled. “Alright, keep going.”

“Uh, robins. Elephants. Trees. Rain.” A smile began to grow. “Thunder when it storms and long walks in the woods. Warm tea and curling up by the fire when it snows.”

Richard was all but grinning now and Bruce could feel his own smile spreading to match. “See? That’s all you. Not Domuz or any other person who’s tried to make you play a part in the past. All of those things are you and I guarantee you, we’ll find a million more things that are you.”

That lovely smile tilted slightly to the left. “You guarantee? That’s a high bet.”

“One I’ll gladly place. And hey,” Bruce leaned back, spreading his arms. “We’ve got a whole library to help us come up with more.”

“I believe you,” Richard said softly and Bruce knew he meant more than just the library.

“Good,” Bruce stood, happy when those blue eyes followed him. “I was also supposed to inform you that dinner was ready.”

Those blue eyes widened. “Oh, I hope we didn’t keep Alfred waiting.”

“Of course not, the man probably timed the food to finish cooking just as we finished our talk.”

Richard glanced at him skeptically. “I doubt that.”

“I am being entirely honest. That’s just how Alfred is. It’s a bit frightening really.” He got another giggle. “I was also told he made pork chops.”

There was a sweet sound of delight. “I like pork chops,” Richard said with mirth and Bruce chuckled too.

Rising from his seat, Richard placed the book on a nearby table without a second thought, knowing it would still be there when he returned. Bruce started forward before he realized Richard was waiting to walk behind him as a proper omega should. He turned back. “Walk with me?”

Dark eyebrows rose and Richard hesitated, but Bruce was patient. Squaring his shoulders, Richard marched up and stood beside him. They shared a smile. “I like to be called Dick, by the way.” Bruce raised an eyebrow at that, and the boy shrugged. “Richard was always too formal for me.”

It seems that, as long as this omega was here, Bruce’s smile was never going to go away. He was okay with that. “Come on then, Dick. I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.” 


End file.
